His drives are so long that, halfway there, the golf ball needs to pull over for a bathroom break.

His sense of humor is such he has produced videos of himself hitting shots while dressed as Santa Claus.

His personality is glimpsed by the fact he owns the original General Lee. The car, we mean, not the corpse.

There are plenty of reasons that explain his appeal among the masses.

It sure doesn’t hurt, though, that he goes by a name other than Gerry Watson.

Bubba, yeah, that’s more like it.

Bubba Watson sounds like a favorite among the crowd.

Gerry Watson — yes, that’s his given name — sounds like a face among the crowd.

If you’re trying to build a prominent, popular sports figure, it’s rarely a bad decision to include a gimmick, even if, as is the case with Watson, the gimmick is as genuine as the information on a birth certificate.

“I’d say 10 seconds after I was born, my dad said I was fat and ugly,” Watson has explained. ” ‘So let’s call him Bubba.’ “

The best gimmicks even can become signatures. Fans still arrive at Lakers games wearing Kurt Rambis glasses. Teammate Magic Johnson has a smile that fills a room before he has a chance to. Pat Riley coached those Showtime Lakers with hair more moussed than Canada is moosed.

Like we said, rarely is creating an attention-arresting device a bad decision. But then there are certain decisions that never will be anything but bad. As an example, we offer Mike Tyson’s face tattoo.

Now, we’re not about to question the authenticity of Tim Tebow’s faith. There are enough stories out there detailing the strength of his spiritual connections.

But, in the case of the celebrated act of “Tebowing,” a gesture that started as a man praying but then detonated into a phenomenon and eroded into a farce, the argument could be made that even God can be a gimmick.

Chad Johnson was all about gimmicks, the ultimate one coming when he changed his last name to Ochocinco. Tragically, it turned out Ochocinco wasn’t much of a receiver and now no one really cares about his gimmicks.

Ron Artest tempted the same fate when he changed his handle. He then began this season shooting like a piece of the world and not “World Peace” was across his shoulders. His play since has improved, although with this guy, the next gimmick always could be right around the corner.

A gimmick that becomes a tradition can be a powerful thing. For proof, consider the Hall of Fame debate comparing Alan Trammell to Ozzie Smith.

Statistically, Trammell matches up quite favorably with Smith in nearly every category but Gold Gloves. Yet, Trammell never has been particularly close to election to Cooperstown, while Smith was a first-ballot no-brainer.

An argument could be made that Smith literally flipped over Trammell and into the Hall of Fame. The Cardinals’ great was, of course, famous for doing a flip while running onto the field each opening day.

The worst gimmicks become tiresome, like those LeBron James pregame introductions in Cleveland. It reached a point where James’ arrivals were more choreographed than a Lady Gaga concert.

George Parros calls his gimmick — that glorious mustache — “a marketing tool.” He’s no dummy. Princeton doesn’t generally produce dummies. The ‘stache has served Parros well, so well, in fact, it is less gimmick now more trademark.

There is no question athletes who answer to Boo, Bronko or Rusty have scored popularity points because of their names. There also is no question that a man simply named John — John Daly — can still be wildly popular because of his game — on and off the course.

But consider this case:

He has won 12 PGA tour events, finished in the top 10 77 other times and cashed checks worth more than $33 million. Yet, Steve Stricker stands out on a golf course about as much as another flagstick.

Now, if he were Jethro Stricker or Bobby Joe Stricker or Boo Stricker, he’d probably have his own reality show on The Golf Channel. As it is, “Steve Stricker PGA Tour 13” will be hitting stores just about the time “Call of Duty: ROTC Dropouts” does.

Not that it matters to someone like Stricker, who appears quite comfortable in his own skin, even if that skin has the same camouflaging effect as that of a chameleon.

That’s OK for golf, though. As a sport, golf famously prefers dried-up personalities. Besides, one Bubba seems about right. So does one less Gerry.

Jeff Miller has been a sports columnist since 1998, having previously written for the Palm Beach Post, South Florida Sun-Sentinel and Miami Herald. He began at the Register in 1995 as beat writer for the Angels.

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